


==> John and Dave: Engage in the Sloppiest of Stoned Makeouts

by Marty (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Casual Sex, Drugs, Frottage, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Marty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't feel anything for a while. He doesn't seem to, either.</p><p>Then he's laughing, harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He doesn't seem to know what he's laughing at, but you lean back and say his name, which gets him laughing harder.</p><p>You're laughing because he's laughing. Or, you think you're laughing. Yeah, you're laughing. He's laughing with you, tears in his eyes as he tries to stop laughing and catch his breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	==> John and Dave: Engage in the Sloppiest of Stoned Makeouts

**Author's Note:**

> hey kids don't do drugs!!!
> 
> [on tumblr](http://legendarydeathclaw.tumblr.com/post/18838078436/yall-convinced-me-fair-warning-i-dont-know-what)

You don't know what makes you decide it's a good idea, but you say yes when Dave asks you and then it's after school and you're sitting on his bed, watching him light his bong and hold it out to you after he takes a long hit. You stare at him for a moment, like you aren't sure what to do with it, and he waves it at you, so you take it, just holding it and looking at it like it's a new thing.

Well, it _is_ a new thing. A thing you never really expected to be holding. Then he hands you a lighter, and you give him a look that must say "what the fuck," because he shuffles closer to you, guides your hand. Then he lights it for you and tells you what to do, and you listen to him, sucking heat and smoke into your mouth and then into your lungs.

You want to gasp, to cough, to get it out of your system, but you don't. You're tearing up and he takes the bong from your hands, takes another hit himself, watching you to make sure you don't throw up all over his floor or something.

Then you breathe out, and your throat feels a bit sore, like you could use a drink, but he finishes off the bowl and puts the bong down on the floor where he got it from and lays back in his bed, leaning against the wall.

You don't feel anything for a while. He doesn't seem to, either.

Then he's laughing, harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He doesn't seem to know what he's laughing at, but you lean back and say his name, which gets him laughing harder.

You're laughing because he's laughing. Or, you think you're laughing. Yeah, you're laughing. He's laughing with you, tears in his eyes as he tries to stop laughing and catch his breath.

He laughs again, then he talks. "John, wh-what the fuck am I la-laughing at?" You shrug and put your hands on his shoulders, feeling a little bit dizzy.

Everything seems to slow down a little bit, too, and it's like you're looking at everything through one of those shitty fisheye lenses.

You take your glasses off and lean over Dave to set them on his bedside table, afraid you're gonna end up breaking them somehow otherwise. He does the same thing with his shades, though, and then he's looking into your eyes. He's tearing up from laughing so hard. He snickers, trying hard not to laugh again.

Then it seems like a good idea, so you lean in, slow, really slow—it seems slow—and you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He makes a noise, one that you think might be surprise, but you're pretty sure he's kissing you back.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him, changing positions so you can both lay your heads on his pillow. His mouth opens, just a bit, so your mouth opens, too, and your tongue moves against his lip and he makes a noise again, less like surprise and more like arousal, so you suck his lip into your mouth

Everything feels almost too slow and too fast at the same time and it feels like you've been kissing him for hours when he pulls away and rolls onto his back, hand reaching down the side of his bed to retrieve the bong again.

He sits up and grabs an ashtray, and reaches over to grab the plate with the weed on it. You feel like, if you move at all, if you even touch him, if you even shift where you're laying, he's gonna spill it and probably punch you and be infinitely pissed off, so you stay still, so still, watching him as he empties the bowl and then packs another one. He takes the first hit, and you're surprised at how much he can take, so you watch him with a detached sort of fascination.

"John," he says, voice strained because he's trying to keep the smoke in his lungs. "C'mere, wanna try somethin'."

You do, you lean in again and he grabs you by the hips and pulls you forward more, seals his lips against yours and breathes into your mouth.

You almost pull away, but then you sort of half-realize what he's trying to do, and you breathe in, wrapping your arms around his neck.

It feels nice, kissing him, so you don't stop, even after he's finished breathing all the smoke from his lungs into yours. Your mouth opens to let his tongue in, and he doesn't seem to mind at all.

You turn your head away, just a little, to breathe out, and he makes himself busy kissing down your jawline, your neck, giving you a gentle bite. You must have made a noise, because he leans back a little and looks at you, almost confused.

"Kiss me again," you tell him, voice slow and quiet. Talking makes it feel like you've got a mouthful of marbles but they disappear when he does kiss you, replaced by his tongue. He moves everything off the bed again as he kisses you, then pulls you with him as he lays down, hands on your hips and pulling your body against his. You aren’t sure you’d have the coordination to not break and/or spill everything, so you’re glad somebody does.

It's as he grinds his hips against yours that you realize just how hard you are. How hard he is. He presses against you and you gasp, pushing against him in response.

"John," he says, sounding breathless as he turns his face away from you. "John, what the fuck are we doing?" He sounds like he's lost his high for a moment, looking at you through eyes that don't look quite as glazed over as they did a second ago.

"Havin' fun," your words are still slow when you talk, so he kisses you again, like he's trying to shove his tongue all the way down your throat or something. It should feel awful and ridiculous but it just feels so good and you're almost a little bit dizzy so you cling to him and he wraps his arms tight around your waist.

"Y'sure?" You almost start to laugh again because he sounds so Texan when he gets stoned, but you just nod and press your lips to his again. You untangle your fingers from his hair and grab his hips, pulling him against you.

"What d'you want me to do?" You sound like a bit of a tool, mumbling into the kiss, words that probably don't quite sound like words.

"Whatever you want."

Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, your hand is working at his belt and he's gasping and doing the same to you, undoing your belt and then your fly. His hands seem like they move too quick, and you watch him for a second as he reaches into the front of your boxers and pulls you out, fingers wrapping around your dick without hesitation at all. Your own hand stills until he gives you a peck on the lips and then you're moving again mimicking his actions and shoving your hand into the fly of his boxers.

A vague, fleeting thought tells you that you'll regret this as soon as you aren't high anymore. You ignore it, pretty much think-tell it to go fuck itself, and buck into Dave's touch.

"John, fuck," he's kissing you again, mouth rough against yours as your hand starts to speed up in pace. It gets easier to do when you focus on it—kissing him, no matter how much you like it, slows you down, even stops you. He doesn't mind. You do.

After a while where you just touch him, and he just touches you, he bats your hand away from his cock, tugs you close to him by the hip, and wraps both hands around your dick and his, squeezing himself against you and bucking into the touch at the same time as you do.

You don't want to focus on anything else aside from that exact feeling, but he kisses you again, a little bit of teeth and a lot of tongue and a _hell_ of a lot of want. You kiss him back just as hard, trying not to shift your focus totally away from the attention your cock is getting.

It isn't even a minute (or, it doesn't feel like it) before it's too much and you're losing it, coming into his hand and onto his sheets. He finishes only a moment later, both hands still around your dick and his.

"Oh fuck," is all he says, breath coming in quick little bursts as he wipes his hands on the sheet behind him. He pulls his comforter up and works it underneath you, between you, covering the spot on his sheets where you both came.

"Dave," is all you can say, and it sounds funny in your voice, and you wrap your arms around his neck and give him another kiss, innocent and without even parting your lips a little.

You want to tell him that _that_ was really weird and you're really sorry and that it might have been a mistake and that you are really fucking stoned but you just give him another peck on the lips.

"...I wanna pass out," is what you manage to say, and he lets a little smile onto his face.

"Me too, man. Pizza later?"

"Y'don't gotta ask."

You don't even really pass out—just drift in and out of what feels like consciousness. You know you aren't actually passing out—just having long moments where you aren't sure what the fuck's going on and you don't especially care, and shorter moments where you're kissing Dave again and hooking a leg over his hip and just holding him.

It's a nice feeling.

You decide, maybe, that you want to do this again.


End file.
